Falling Backwards
by Graffigraphy
Summary: Their relationship was a fine balance. Neither side could move forward without the fear of falling. But maybe with a little push they could fall not apart, but forward together. On Lily and James and what it takes to get them together. Twoshot.
1. Chapter 1

**I wanted to write about an anti-Lily. I have read so many crap fanfics about her as this psychotic, PMS monster that was in serious need of anger management, so I thought the time was ripe to portray her as simply a normal teenager. So here is the Unconventional Lily. **

**I originally had a different author's note here, but I got a review that prompted me to change it. Very interesting, I think. Normally I wouldn't bother, but I found that I actually did respect their viewpoint on the matter, so here is the space-waster. If that anonymous reviewer ever comes back, thanks for the advice. **

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Lily Evans was stretched out on her bed, fingers laced together behind her head, and was staring aimlessly at the canopy above her. It was a Saturday night—well, actually, as she thought about it, it was most likely Sunday already. Two of her roommates were asleep, and her best friends were no where to be found. But that was alright with Lily—sometimes it was nice to have time just for herself.

On most nights, given the opportunity to go straight to sleep, Lily would have gladly taken it. She was a seventh year now, and the Head Girl, so with all of her advanced classes and patrol duties, free time was a rare luxury. Extra hours of sleep were taken and relished, and she was planning on sleeping until noon the next morning, but at the moment she was wide awake. It was a curious change.

Despite the general opinion, Lily Evans was not perfect. Not that she believed that anyone thought that of her, but she had a fairly large reputation to live up to. However, Lily, while quite clever, was not a super genius, not the top of all her classes, not a teacher's pet. She was bright and hardworking when she needed to be. The position of Head Girl was given to her because of her work ethic, which appeared to the general population of Hogwarts to be quite great. On the contrary, though, Lily Evans was completely normal.

She was a decent student, and she hoped that she was a good friend. Two of her best friends (who were both currently M.I.A.) Lily had the fortune to be rooming with, and the other half of her group were a couple of nice kids from Ravenclaw that the three girls managed to make friends with. Of course, being in separate houses made it difficult, but their group dynamic worked out very well, actually. The time that the two houses spent apart made time together feel so much more special.

Lily considered a select four girls to be her closest friends, and while she spent the majority of her time with them, she was actually quite social with the rest of her house. But generally people kept to their own groups of friends, and only really crossed during classes. With the small exception of the Marauders, this proved true.

During fifth year, James Potter got his notorious crush on our heroine, and Lily had spent a majority of the year completely detesting him. But, she reasoned, back then she was a mere fifteen-year-old, and at the start of the year was even fourteen. So her loud and sometimes-irrational outbursts were childish parts of her past. Now James Potter, also having matured a bit since then, only made the occasional pass at her, which she didn't really mind so much, because sometimes it was nice to have someone direct their attention at you in that way.

Not that the Marauders were Hogwarts "gods" or anything. In reality, they were just four normal guys, but with a couple more slightly exceptional genes. All four of them were very clever, and they weren't really bad looking either. Lily and her friends, when discussing, as they have many times, the appearances of any eligible single guys at Hogwarts, have mentioned Sirius Black to be fairly decent-looking, while the other three come up behind him. But the Slytherin Quidditch captain—now, _he_ was hot.

So while Lily pondered life and its meanings—more so guys and their general "ness"—the door of the dormitory was pushed open, and Erin Langston and Amelia Joplin crept into the room and over to their friend's bed. Lily glanced up at them.

"Hello, hello. Where have you two disappeared off to?"

Erin pulled her bag off of her shoulder and set it on the bed. She unzipped it and sifted through the contents as quietly as possible, as to not wake their sleeping bunkmates. "We were in Hogsmeade," Erin said absentmindedly.

"Ah. Tell me—was it more exciting, or less exciting, than staring at the ceiling of my bed?" Lily asked as she rolled over to peer into Erin's bag.

Amelia stuck her tongue out. "Nice way to spend the evening, Lil. _We_ got ourselves a little happy down at the Three Broomsticks. Sucks to be you."

Lily made a face. "That's _great_. You could have at least invited me."

Erin snorted. "We didn't stay for long. But we did bring back _this_." With a smile, Erin procured two bottles of Firewhiskey. She and Amelia slapped hands.

Lily rolled back over but stared up at her friends. "What's the date? That's more than the three of us can drink. Assuming you share, of course."

"You dork, Lil. Don't you pay attention to anything?" Amelia asked.

"I pay attention to my canopy ceiling. See, look—I think there's a bug in the corner."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "We're going to meet up with Mia and Hannah."

"_Oh_. Why?"

"Because, you dimwit, Mia went out with Christopher tonight, and we need to make sure that she's… happy."

Erin tossed the alcohol back into her bag and grimaced. "That's a lie. Actually, Amelia just wants to know how far Mia let him get."

Amelia spun around to glare at her friend. "No way, you want to know just as much as I do! In fact, it was your idea to meet up with them!"

Lily rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the bed. "No problem, then. When do you want to meet up with them, you know, to make sure that Mia still has her virtue?"

"At one. You've got twenty minutes." Erin told her.

Over at the other corner of the room, a sleepy Emily Johnson raised her head and called, "Would you lot _shut up _already? Some people here are trying to sleep."

The trio mumbled their apologies before shuffling off to prepare for their midnight rendezvous. Lily was genuinely excited about the meeting—it would give them a chance not only to drink Firewhiskey, but to press Mia for details about her date. And it was important, too. This was her first date, which goes hand in hand with first hook-up, which was something that the other fours girls had already gone through. For seventeen long years, their dear friend Mia remained hopelessly prude. It seemed that this was a cause for celebration after all.

For the most part, Lily liked guys. Though Hogwarts boys could be a bit exhausting, especially considering that A) there were so few of them, and B) that she had know them for too many years, so most of Lily's boy experience came from the summer. In fact, she mused, Lily had not had a boyfriend during her Hogwarts career. It hadn't bothered her nearly as much as it bothered Amelia, though. Amelia _loved _boys. And Amelia had a lot of experience.

Having a boyfriend might have been nice, Lily thought. Unfortunately, there were very few suitable candidates for the position. In an ideal world, she would be with a tall guy—to balance out her short frame—and he should be intelligent and witty and hopefully good-looking, as the shallow part of her needed. Once or twice this year (or maybe more) she had even considered what it would be like to go out with James Potter. It was obvious that he still liked her, as his occasional racy comments gave evidence to, and he did fit the tall, intelligent, witty criteria—and perhaps he was decent looking. Though too bad he wasn't hot like that Slytherin Quidditch captain.

Twenty minutes later, Lily and Amelia pulled a snoozing Erin off of her bed and the three of them grabbed their wands, and in Erin's case, her bag, and they paddled off down the stairs of the girl's dormitory. The common room was nearly empty, but nobody paid them any notice as they exited through the portrait hole and attempted to power walk as quickly as possible to the kitchens.

They made the journey without incident, and after Erin tickled the pear on the door to the kitchens, they made their way inside where Hannah Lewis and Mia Campbell were waiting, it appeared, quite impatiently.

"_Finally_!" Mia said, "What took you guys so long?"

"We walked extra slow, just for you, dearie," Erin said as she carefully dropped her bag down on the table and slid in next to Hannah. "You make it here safe and sound?"

"We were fine, if not for a hyperactive Mia bouncing off the walls," Hannah said with a roll of her eyes. "She wouldn't tell me anything. The lazy git just didn't want to have to tell her story twice."

Lily and Amelia joined the table, but not before requesting of the house elves a couple of glasses, some spoons, and a carton of chocolate ice cream. Lily leaned forwards on the table.

"Okay. Let's hear it."

While Erin poured out five cups of liquor, Mia told them how after dinner, she and Christopher had met up. They went out for a walk around the grounds, waiting for it to get dark enough to see the stars. And that they had lay together on the grass and talked, and then there was the inevitable kissing.

"Well," Hannah began, "how was it?"

"Which part of it?"

"What do you think? Was he a good kisser?" she asked.

Mia frowned. "I don't know… it was okay, I guess."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You guess? Come on, it couldn't be _that _bad, could it?"

"Yeah, at least you got to kiss a guy," Erin said bitterly.

Mia tapped her finger to her chin in thought. "I guess…" she started, "like, you always read in books about how the girl who can't get a boyfriend, well she meets this guy and then there's all this sexual tension where the reader is waiting in agony for them to just bloody hook-up already, and the kiss is supposed to be this magical, amazing thing in which the female is always bedazzled by her boyfriend, and the whole thing is just supposed to be super-intense. You know?"

Lily nodded. She understood. "Yeah, we know."

"Well, I really like Christopher and all, but, well… I just didn't think it was all that much fun."

Amelia laughed. "Oh, don't worry, sweetie. It will improve. The first time just sucks because you don't know what you're doing." She paused and took a spoonful of ice cream.

Mia shook her head. "And _what _is the deal with tongue? Romantic? Yeah, _right_—no way in hell! Eugh!"

This caused the other girls to laugh too, and Erin raised her glass in salute. "Amen, sister. I couldn't agree with you more."

She passed around the other four drinks, and Hannah raised hers up to toast. "To Mia's death to prudism. Congratulations, Casanova."

With smiles, everyone clinked their glasses together and drank to their friend. Once done with her sip, Amelia put her glass down in thought. "So, since we're on the subject of boys, has anything interesting happened to the rest of you? I personally couldn't be more bored."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You're _such_ a slag. Didn't you hook-up with Ben Harvey a week ago?"

Amelia shrugged. "Yeah, but I always hook-up with him. That's not interesting at all."

Erin grabbed a spoonful if ice cream too. "Well, you know there's nothing exciting on my end. Ever since…what was it? Five months ago—when Daniel and I broke up. I haven't been with anyone."

She turned to Hannah, waiting for the taller girl's story to share. Hannah shrugged. "Nothing from me, either. At the moment I'm simply living vicariously through Mia, though in my own personal fantasy, my Christopher would look like that gorgeous Slytherin Quidditch captain."

Lily snickered. "He is _quite _good-looking. Though I think he has a girlfriend, at the moment."

Hannah dropped her glass on the table with a thud. "What? _No way!_"

Amelia nodded. "Yes way. He's going out with another Slytherin. I think it's Lucinda Zaltria, but I'm not sure."

"Bloody hell," Hannah mumbled, "What a letdown…"

Mia took a big sip of her drink before turning to Lily. "Well? What about you? Anything interesting happening with you?"

Lily sighed. Of course not. Things were just as dull, boy-wise, as they had been since the end of the summer. They were already well into October, and while it had only been a few months since she had had even a little bit of romance, it felt like much more time had passed.

"No, I'm just as boring as the rest of you lot."

Amelia studied her for a moment. "Are you really?"

"Very much so," Lily responded, gazing at her friend in confusion. Amelia had a strange look on her face.

"Because, well, I could be wrong, but I think that I've seen a bit of a spark between you and Potter lately."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "That's highly doubtful."

Erin smirked. "Oh, I disagree, Lils."

"And why is that?"

"I love how this is unfolding into a Socratic debate," Hannah said with a smile. "Come, ladies. Do continue."

Erin set down her glass and crossed her arms on the table. "I think that despite how much he jokes, James Potter has real feelings for you."

Amelia nodded, "Yes, I agree."

Lily shrugged. "Of course he has a crush. That was apparent to me for a while. It's not like we're friends or anything—why else would he pay so much attention? Though that is where I think it stops, and he has no more real feeling for me than the rest of us do for, say, our beloved Slytherin Quidditch captain."

Hannah let out an agonized moan. "Then he's in love with you! Madly in love with you! Oh, how I do adore that Quidditch _God_."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Geez, Hannah. Get over yourself," she turned back to the discussion and regarded Lily. "Not your best example, I must say."

Amelia picked up the conversation again. "Well, Lily. What is your opinion of our dear Mr. Potter?"

Lily paused. A difficult question, to be sure. It was hard to pinpoint a specific opinion, what with all of the Potter-induced trauma in the past. She had gone from finding him amusing (first day of first year), to popular and cocky (most of first through third year), to annoying (forth year), to insufferable (fifth year), to embarrassing, albeit funny (sixth year), to now… she didn't really know. He was, at times, obnoxious, and at times charming. He could be such a typical perverted-idiot _guy_, yet when the situation called for it, he was also mature. He was certainly friendly, most definitely affectionate, and in the strangest way she couldn't help but like him.

The big question was, in what way? Lily didn't think it was anything beyond their general chemistry. She was also firm in the belief that Potter was the same way. She was sure that the reason he talked to her in that too-personal, lack-of-personal-space way was because besides their good-humored banter, he actually had nothing else to say to her. Their interactions had a rhythm to them—and changing their relationship in any way more would throw off their equilibrium. It was an unspoken rule that they did not dare break.

Lily stayed silent while contemplating this. It was only when Amelia poked her in the side that she snapped back to reality.

"Well? What is it?"

Lily frowned. "I don't know. But I do know that Potter and I in a relationship would never happen."

Hannah stared at her. "_Really_? Doesn't seem that way from what I see. And remember, I don't see that much, being halfway across the castle all the time."

Amelia's eyes lit up—her inner gossip was taking over. "Well, well. Do tell, my dear."

Hannah paused, her head tilting to the side as she deliberately prolonged the moment. "I saw them talking one time outside of the library…"

"So _that's _what they call it these days," Amelia said with a grin.

"And," Hannah continued, "I didn't hear too much of what they were saying. But judging by body language alone, I came up with interesting results.

"There was definitely some kind of attraction, or, dare I say it, _chemistry_, between them. Let's face it, Lil—he doesn't hesitate to make physical contact with you."

Lily mused over this for a moment. That was true—a valid point. It was a type-two interaction on her scale. According to Lily, they had three methods of conversation, types one, two and three. Type-one was quite common—strictly a comment thrown her way, in which ninety-nine percent of the time it was jokingly. Type-ones could be anything from a suggestive remark to a compliment to an "Evans, duck!"

Type-two interactions proved to be more entertaining. They were type-ones, but to the next level. It could start with a comment that, generally speaking, he would not have said in front of his grandmother. And then, with response from Lily, the conversation would continue. Instead of being somewhere in the too-personal range, it was also in the lack-of-personal-space range. So in addition to a conversation that would easily make her blush, Lily did not find it uncommon to feel a tug on her hair, or a hand on her knee, by the in-your-face James Potter.

Type-threes were simple and boring. "Professional" conversations between them—most commonly over head duties or certain more-serious topics. It was only during these interactions that she believed that he had a bit of maturity in him.

What Hannah had witnessed was one of the more physical interactions between the two of them. Lily didn't particularly care that her friend had seen her and Potter—it wasn't as if they were doing anything bad, of course. And above all, she never minded when he was playful like that with her. Lily had grown up surrounded by girls who seemed to be able to get any boy that they wanted, but it was never that easy for Lily. She hadn't kissed a guy until she was fifteen years old, and even then it was an opportunity that, if she had passed it up, she feared she wouldn't get another one for _years_. This, of course, was an exaggeration, but although people told her that she was pretty, boys had never fawned over her as they had other girls.

So now that there was this funny, witty, charming guy that, while not amazingly good-looking, was still tall and cute and gave her attention in _that _way, Lily found that she actually enjoyed their strange interactions. She liked the feeling of being wanted. And even if she would not admit this out loud to her friends, it was the truth. Because really, who wouldn't?

Unfortunately, Lily and James had an established fine balance, and if it changed, she would lose the little that she had with him. It was painful to think about, but she would not lie to herself. Their conversation was always influenced by one of two things—"suggestion", or work. And even if other topics filtered in here or there, the center of it all was _always_ one of those two things.

Lily twirled what was left of her drink around in her cup. She glanced up at her friends, and then drank the rest of it before speaking. "Potter is physical with me because he can be. But outside of that and head duties, we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about, and no other relationship."

Hannah and Amelia exchanged a look before Erin chimed in, "Are you uncomfortable talking about this? Because you can tell them to shut up, you know."

"Believe me, I know," Lily said, "But it's okay. And I want you two to understand what the situation is with Potter and I. Because it isn't going to change."

"Alright, whatever, I understand," Amelia said, "But I have one question."

"Yes?"

"When you two are together, and you're talking about more…intimate things… how do you feel?"

Lily paused. "Like my face is on fire."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "We all know that you blush at everything, Lil. I don't think that's what she was talking about."

"Okay…" Lily thought about it, "In all honesty, sometimes I wish he would follow up on his words. If he says something to me, and we both know it's a joke, there are times that I wish that it wasn't." Like the small instances of physical contact weren't enough. Like how she sometimes wished that their unspoken treaty of semi-platonicness just wasn't there, and that instead of talking with words, they were talking with lips. _Big _difference there, people.

But it would never happen. They would never work. She saw them standing on their opposite ends of the see-saw, perfectly level, but there was no way to break the balance. If she tried to move forward, they would both fall. If she moved back, they would fall as well. And even if falling was inevitable, they would never be able to fall together.

Mia tapped Lily on the arm. "Does he give you stomach flutters?"

Lily grinned and Amelia shook her head, "The grown-up word would be 'chemistry', love. And it's fueled by a little thing we like to call sexual tension."

Hannah turned to her. "Well? Do you get the flutters?"

"Of course I do."

Amelia, Hannah, and Mia all stared at her. Even Erin, who had grown increasingly bored with the conversation, looked interested.

Amelia sighed. "Sorry, Lily, but all you're doing is convincing me more and more that I'm right. I'm feeling the _flutters_ of success."

"I'm very happy for you," Lily said facetiously, "but personally, I'm ready to be done with this conversation. I stand by my opinion that despite what I might feel for him, Potter and I will never work as a couple. So things aren't going to change. I'm comfortable with where they are now."

"You're comfortable," Erin said, "but are you happy?"

"Ooh, Erin's getting deep!" With that bubbly retort from Mia, Lily shrugged and started to clean up the table. She gathered the empty cups together while the rest of the table was cleared of ice cream and spoons to give back to the house elves. The conversation shifted onto other things—classes, teachers, the upcoming holiday of Halloween, but Lily felt herself pulled into the talk about Potter. It certainly was an interesting subject, but she wasn't fond of her friends' thoughts on the whole. They didn't understand Lily's belief—they probably thought that she was just in denial. The problem was that she wasn't in denial at all—she was just being realistic. It was depressing, but true.

So once the table was wiped down and the remaining Firewhiskey was stored back in Erin's bag, the girls exchanged hugs and kisses, and Hannah and Mia turned right at the door while the three Gryffindor girls turned left. They would see each other the next morning at lunch, but it was still depressing that they weren't in the same house. It made middle-of-the-night meetings such as this one much more difficult.

After shutting the door behind them, the kitchens were quiet. Some of the house elves shuffled back into the main room of the kitchens to start prepping breakfast. Others were off in various corners of the castle, tucked away in the darkness while they worked. One house elf in particular, by the name of Poppy, was carrying a mug of hot chocolate to the alcove under the window, tucked off of the main room of the kitchens.

It was in this alcove that a figure was sitting, mind racing. Originally, coming here had been a goal to study in the quiet, with the benefit of great food to keep the mind energized. However, after dosing for a bit over a particularly boring passage in the potions textbook, sleep was torn away with the arrival of voices. One is always conflicted in those situations; the only way out of the kitchens was through the main room, but the girls would inevitably know that someone had been listening in. Or, of course, the easier option had been to wait out the conversation and try not to pay too much attention.

Ignoring them, however, had proven unbelievably difficult when James Potter heard his name come up.

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**That futile attempt at a dramatic ending is in attempt to draw readers into the second half of my little two-shot. What did you think? **


	2. Chapter 2

**I know—I **_**know**_**—that it has been nearly two years since I published the first chapter of this fic. But I managed to persevere! And being the responsible (albeit extremely slow-to-update author that I am) I finally finished Falling Backwards. It's my first completed fic.**

**James is a bit of an Unconventional James in this fic, just as Lily is an Unconventional Lily. I know that some people would be dissatisfied with their relationship being written as I have it, but I'm writing how I think it would be real to me. Plus, they'll inevitably get together in the end, and the ends do in fact justify the means. **

**In the meantime, enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, and for my readers from '08, if you came back for chapter two, I hope that it was worth the wait.

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**

There can come a moment—any moment, really, anything from the first time you step on a piece of gum to the first time you realize that the person you had thought was a friend was really just a backstabbing asshole—in which you just _know _that life really kind of sucks.

Pessimistic as it may be, James Potter could at least be comforted in the knowledge that everyone has gotten this feeling at one point in time. However, even his apparent safety in numbers tactic wasn't going to work for him, because this was a situation that, despite its familiarity, was something that he was going to have to deal with on his own.

It was Sunday morning. Sunlight was streaming through the windows of Gryffindor tower, and five Gryffindor seventh year boys were still in their beds. James, although awake, hadn't yet made any attempt to get out of bed. Instead, he chose to lie there, listening to Sirius snore through the morning as he tried to think out his problem.

Last night, he had contemplated waking the Marauders and hearing what they had to say. But something had stopped him. Perhaps it was the general lack of experience from the group, or perhaps James just didn't want to give Sirius the satisfaction of saying, "I told you so!" and consequently having to become his bitch for a month. James wasn't sure. So he left his friends to sleep, and now that he had had a few hours to doze and blank his mind from the whole incident, it was Sunday morning, quickly approaching Sunday afternoon, and his brain needed to start sorting out some of the things that he had overheard last night.

In some ways, it just amazed him how different Lily's friends were when it came to talking about boys than his friends were when it came to talking about girls. But in other ways, they were completely similar. Perhaps they had just all grown up in a way, but James actually thought that they had a kind of mature approach to relationships. That didn't mean, however, that he was satisfied with what he had heard.

James rolled over onto his side, Lily's words from the previous night still ringing in his ears. The whole conversation, really, was like one giant, constant regurgitation of ringing in his ears. James decided that the best way to analyze would be to start from the top, document his information, and then work from there.

Point One: Amelia Joplin, fellow Gryffindor seventh year, believed that there was a "spark" between him and Lily.

James thought about it. And thought about it some more. And he could only reach one conclusion: damn right they had a spark. He would have to be a monk and her an… ogre for them not to have a spark. But sparks were sparks. And knowing sparks, James was also of the knowledge that sparks did not always turn into fires.

Point Two: Lily Evans, cause of much frustration and the occasional morning wood, states to her group of friends that the subject, James Potter, has "real feelings" for her. James was going to translate "real feelings" to the simpler term "crush."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was _supposed _to be a secret.

But still, because James Potter was human, and humans have a tendency to rationalize when faced with bad and-slash-or uncomfortable situations, James commenced rationalizing. Setting aside his silent cries of fuck, shit, crap, or whatever other expletive the reader chooses, he thought about crushes. And crushes, in essence, could be anything. From that crush that James had had in first year on delicious Professor Doyle (still _so _unfortunate that she got into that Charms accident and had to be replaced by runty old Professor Flitwick) to the crush that those girls all seemed to have on that (_average-looking_, James asserted silently) Slytherin Quidditch captain, to the supposed crush that James had on Lily now, these things were innocent. A crush was a crush. It wasn't head-over-heels, fiery, passionate, you-are-the-air-I-breathe stuff.

Point Three: Lily Evans makes the statement, "Potter and I in a relationship would never happen."

Fair enough. After all, even though it was a silent agreement made between the two of them, it was known. And that was why they could continue playing their game. They could get in each other's faces and under each other's skin. They could rile each other up and make an impact on the other, be it mentally or physically. But they never crossed the line. They never broke that unspoken pact. It was a delicate balance, but one that they were both well-versed in.

Point Four: Friends are of the opinion that Lily and James have chemistry together.

James would have been insulted if they didn't think the pair had chemistry, now that he thought about it. He was James Potter, resident intellectual, charming, witty (and if he dared to go there) Quidditch god. (Oh, he went there. He was also honest, if that helped.) And Lily was Lily. The combination of Lily and James _should _equal chemistry. It was almost a constant in their equation.

He realized as an afterthought that chemistry and sparks were, in theory, the same thing. But both still very important in his mental scribing, James thought. Sometimes, it was worth the reiteration just for impact's sake.

Point Five: She wants me to follow up on my words.

It had made James stop dead in his tracks. He hadn't been moving much, but that single utterance had practically knocked the breath out of him. In some ways, it wasn't even that wild of a thought. It wasn't like James had never _thought _about it. Because believe you me, he had. And just as Lily could describe a possible side-effect of a Lily-James encounter with a rush of blood to the face, James could describe it as a rush of blood to the groin.

But it was confusing, as these things usually are. Because they had their balancing act. They had their equilibrium. And despite all of the interactions and actions and reactions between them, they had never truly taken the step outside of this comfortable equilibrium. It would screw things up. And now, after hearing her saying that she sometimes wished that "he would follow up on his words", he was seriously puzzled. His head was telling him to think rationally and that even though she said that, he still knew that balance was balance, and if they lost their balance they would lose everything. Unfortunately, his _other _head was telling him that he should just find her and drag her into the nearest broom closet and [your choice of verb here] her senseless.

He rolled back over onto his back. He had long since kicked the covers off of the bed, feeling hot and frustrated even though he was only wearing underwear and a tee-shirt. And his mind was still racing. Thinking, or at least trying to think, about what the hell he was going to do.

The problem, if one particular problem had to be picked out of this whole vast _ocean _of problems, was that James himself didn't really know what he wanted.

Back during fifth year, he would have given anything for her to go out with him. He had teased her, taunted her, mercilessly annoyed her, and generally made the better part of the year unbearable for her. But fifth year, two long years ago, he had been a different person. Sure, he had had his infamous crush on her. But that was just an obnoxious fifteen year old kid that wanted what he couldn't have, and then couldn't accept the fact that on her watch, there was no way in hell that they would be a couple.

Needless to say, James had grown up some since fifth year. And in hindsight, he knew that he had never really liked her back then. He wanted her, sure. But did he actually care about her, and how she felt? Not so much.

He wasn't the only one who had changed since then. When they came back to school in sixth year, after a long summer apart to compose themselves, she had come back completely different. She wasn't the same awkward teenage girl that she had been in fifth year. She was composed, and confident, and her confidence had only continued to build over the course of the year. His comments towards her no longer affected her the way that they had used to. She had her temper in check, and yelling channeled to wit. She could hold her own against him. And the best part was, she always kept her composure. In some ways, James Potter felt emasculated. But in other ways, it was totally sexy.

Because they could talk without her going off like a time bomb, James had started to gain a certain amount of respect for her. He started to respect her boundaries. And that was how this change in the direction of their relationship had taken place. They had gone from children on the brink of immaturity to adults, able to talk and joke and not jump down each other's throats.

But now, it seemed that even this boundary was stretching. And things that weren't supposed to be there were now entering the equation.

James wondered for a second why he didn't just act on impulse. Why he was lying in bed in his underwear instead of off with her, making up for lost time. Why he couldn't just ignore all senses of balance. Was their relationship really so impossible that they had no chance?

She had said that they didn't have anything in common. Maybe so. They had their head duties, but other than that, they each had their own interests and lead completely separate lives. Somehow, though, James couldn't necessarily see that as a bad thing.

She thinks that they have nothing to talk about. That their little act is it. But once you try and stick some "real" feelings there, then it's all screwed up. James laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at his bed's canopy. He wondered if she was only saying that because she was scared at the possibility of them becoming a couple. Or perhaps she didn't want that at all. Perhaps she had only made the blood-rushing comment about wanting him to act on his words because she was horny. That was a definite possibility. However, from the little that James was able to glean about the female psyche over the years, he was fairly certain that most girls weren't completely on board with the whole "sex without feelings" thing.

So assuming that she did have feelings behind her little comment, then she wasn't the problem. Apparently, he was. That should have been enough to push him out of bed and into a pair of pants, of to search every nook of the castle until he found her. But for some reason, he was still in bed. He really needed to work out what the hell was going through his head, because it was leaving "Little James" a little frustrated.

He ran his hands through his hair. What the hell was keeping him from going for it? This was Lily Evans, not just some no-name girl. She was intelligent and witty and beautiful and confident. She was essentially the perfect match for him. Theoretically, they could be excellent together.

And suddenly he knew. Maybe it was a recurrence from the past, and maybe it was his over-sized ego, but James was scared. The great James Potter was lying in his bed with his tail between his legs, trapped inside of his head, because he was scared. Part of it was fear of rejection. All of these racing thoughts, after all, were merely conjecture. Logical conjecture, granted, but conjecture nonetheless. Besides, Lily was the one that said she knew that he still liked her. And she apparently liked him. But she wasn't acting on impulse either.

Nope. They were both being logical, rational beings. And it was fucking up everything.

James had used to think that there could be no woman more perfect for him than Lily. She was on such a high pedestal at this point that it was no wonder there was a fear of losing balance. And because he had internalized such an ideal relationship, he was scared of finally getting it, and then screwing up.

Wow, Potter. Way to be confident. James internally berated himself. He couldn't help it. He was acting like a girl—though no offence to girls, of course.

But after thinking about it and thinking about it and thinking about it some more, James knew that there was really only one thing to do. He had to tip the scales. Break the balance. Because at this rate, there was no moving forward. He would be trapped inside of his head for the rest of eternity if he didn't do something. And he was even willing to risk everything. Because for the first time in years, he finally actually thought that they might have a chance together.

Of course, because he was James Potter, and nothing is ever easy with James Potter, he wasn't going to let her know right away what he had overheard. And because she was Lily Evans, he knew that toying with her just a little bit before the truth comes out would make the inevitable so much more worthwhile.

* * *

The rest of the day had passed in slow anticipation for James. It had taken all of his self-restraint not to stop in the middle of a game of chess with Peter in the common room and go over to Lily. Instead, he had shot her a wry grin from across the room, which she had returned with an absentminded wave. Not a problem. He was saving the real confrontation for later that night.

James had been a bit quieter than usual that day, but his friends let him be for the most part. And for that, James was glad. He wasn't much in the mood to get into a debate about the issue with the other Marauders. Instead, he slowly but surely made the wait until night, in which he and Lily would have to do rounds.

It was usually very simple. They would patrol the halls and pull out straggling underclassmen who thought that it would be a good idea to [your choice of verb here] in the broom cupboards. However, Sunday nights were usually very easy nights, because most of the midnight bouts in the broom cupboards happened on Fridays and Saturdays. By Sunday, it was usually pretty quiet.

James Potter was feeling nervous. Believe it or not, he couldn't help but feel millions of proverbial butterflies bouncing around in his stomach, and despite the deep cleansing breaths that he was frequently taking, the butterflies just weren't going away. The best part was, he didn't even get this nervous before Quidditch games. Nope. But apparently, talking to Lily brought on the nerves that James didn't even know he had.

According to the Marauder's Map, Lily was in the Charms corridor. James shoved the map into his pocket and made the quick jog over to the aforementioned corridor, where he saw that she was walking in the opposite direction. It was now or never.

"Boo."

Lily stopped and turned around upon hearing James Potter's voice. She smiled.

"Potter."

"Evans."

He walked over to her. The corridor seemed so quiet and his footsteps seemed so loud. But there she was, right in the middle of the hallway. Lily Evans, resident enigma. She still had a slight grin pulling at her lips, and for some reason, that alone sent a nervous lurch through his stomach. But on the outside, James Potter was cool as a cucumber. He dropped a hand on her back and gently guided her forward, so they were strolling at a leisurely pace through the corridor.

"Catch a lot of vagrants tonight?" Lily asked. "I bet I beat you."

"Oh yeah? For a Sunday night, I caught my fair share of closet dwellers, I'll have you know."

She stuck her tongue out, but said nothing and kept her eyes forward. James, however, was still on the subject of closets, and couldn't help the thoughts from tumbling out of his mouth.

"So, Evans, you've been here for seven years now. Have you ever had a tryst in one of these trusty broom closets?"

She grinned. "Have you?"

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

"Then nor does a lady."

"I can see the appeal of it," James pondered out loud. "For inter-house couples, that is."

"Well, I would assume that it would _only _be used by couples in separate houses. I mean, is there really any point in a couple from the same house to deliberately leave the house, locate a broom cupboard, snog or copulate or whatever verb you choose to use there, just for the thrill of the possibility of being caught?"

James shrugged. "I think some people just aren't as classy as 'no risks' Evans," he said, teasing. She rolled her eyes.

"No need to brand me, Potter. I may not be a Marauder, but I don't know if that necessarily makes me 'no risk', quote-on-quote."

"Brand you?"

She nodded. "Like cattle, no less. And here I thought that you were a good guy." Seeing his look, however, she added with a grin, "within reason."

He laughed. "No fear, Evans. I am as good as they come."

"Perhaps the more you tell that to yourself, the greater chance it has of coming true."

"Oh no, I am sure that it is true. I _am _James Potter, after all. The fabulous."

"Fruity," she muttered. His eyes widened.

"Oh, really?" he challenged, looking at her with an amused smirk. This wouldn't do. He had a reputation at stake. He stopped the slow walk that they were making through the corridor, stopping just short of the end where he could face her. She looked positively, deliciously evil.

She had a sly smile on her face, but she wasn't looking at him. "Oh, I don't know, Potter. You talk the talk, but sometimes I feel like it's all talk and no trousers."

James grinned. No trousers? _She wished_. But back to the matter at hand. Here was Lily Evans, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips at the end of the dark charms corridor in the middle of the night, questioning his sexuality. Needless to say, immediate action would have to be take—immediately.

"What makes you think such things, my dear Evans?" he asked, taking a step closer to her. She just looked up at him, hands still on her hips, confident and unwavering. For a moment, James almost felt intimidated. But he was also smiling. Despite the strike to his manhood, he had a pretty good feeling that this would end well.

"Well," she said, pausing for a moment, "You act all flirty, and overly, _overbearingly_ cocky, yet you never actually do anything. One would think that such a 'perfect' guy would be able to get any girl he wanted, yet James Potter remains single. Curious. Could it be that you hide behind this overly flirtatious demeanor just to mask what you truly feel?"

At this point, James could no longer tell if she was joking or serious. But what was a smile before became an all out Cheshire Cat grin upon hearing her response. "Would you like to know what I truly feel?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Gladly."

Before, their conversation had been a flowing composition held with utmost control on both parts. A steady back and forth between two alpha individuals. Now? This was his time to take the lead. James knocked her hands off of her hips and, replacing them with his own, backed her up against the wall of the corridor. Their bodies were pressed together close and James could swear that he could hear the blood pounding in her ear when he leaned down and whispered, "I only have eyes for you."

In the dark, it was hard to see the slight flush of her face. But he could, just barely. She grinned. "What took you so long?"

And it turned out that James Potter wasn't the one in control after all. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him to her, and they crashed together in a kiss. It wasn't glamorous, but it was certainly them.

After a quick tumble against the wall, which consisted of much running of hands through hair and hands searching for any inch of skin available and much swapping of saliva, they came apart. And James was grinning, and Lily was grinning, and they both exchanged a look like they had done something naughty, but it was so worth it. James rested his forehead against hers, and they both closed their eyes.

"Listen, Lily, I know that we have these _lines_, but—"

"I knew that you heard."

"Wait, what?"

She looked up at him. They were still tangled in a mess of arms against the wall of the corridor, but there was a certain stillness to everything now. "I knew that you were there. In the kitchens."

"No way."

She rolled her eyes. "Your friends had been looking for you as we left. And one of the house elves kept bring plates of Licorice Wands to that back room."

Licorice Wands had blown his cover. If they didn't taste so damn good, he would swear them off.

"James?"

His mind had finally wrapped around the conversation at hand. He peered at her curiously. "I don't get it. You know that I'm there, so you say… some stuff—but then you talk about how we would never work as a couple. Do you… even want a relationship with me, Evans?"

She didn't blink. "Well, I do like to mess with your head—you can consider it payback for years of mind games. But more seriously… did you think I was about to start spouting love confessions with the gossip queens around me?"

"Well, no—_wait_, were there _subconscious_ love confessions?"

She smirked. "You wish." She carefully detangled herself from his arms. "But if you're lucky, I'll let you walk me back to my room."

She started to walk back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, and James was almost dazed for a moment before he hurried after her.

"Lily," he said, stopping her. "Look, I agonized about this for at least a good twenty minutes—" she rolled her eyes "—but the fact of the matter is, I really could care less about some weird boundary line that worked for our relationship months ago. It just won't work for me now. I want to be with you. I know that we can make this work."

She smiled. "I wouldn't have mentioned anything last night if I hadn't been thinking along the same lines. Of course, I have my doubts, and you do too—but I think that we are two responsible, somewhat mature adults. And maybe I'm crazy, but the idea of being with you makes me happy. This is kind of scary. But I want it. I want you."

Call it dorky, call it cliché, but upon hearing that final sentence come out of her mouth, James couldn't help but feel his heart swell. It was real. They could be real.

She turned once again to walk back. But this time, she laced her fingers with his, and together they walked, hand in hand, back to the tower.

They hadn't even needed a broom closet.


End file.
